ACT 1
Scene 1
Enter Leonato, Governor of Messina, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his niece, with a Messenger.
with a letter
I learn in this letter that Don
Pedro of Aragon comes this night to Messina.
...I left him.
How many gentlemen have you lost in this
action?
...none of name.
A victory is twice itself when the achiever
brings home full numbers. I find here that Don
Pedro hath bestowed much honor on a young
Florentine called Claudio.
...tell you how.
He hath an uncle here in Messina will be
very much glad of it.
...badge of bitterness.
Did he break out into tears?
...In great measure.
A kind overflow of kindness. There are no
faces truer than those that are so washed. How
much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at
weeping!
...of any sort.
What is he that you ask for, niece?
...of his killing.
Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too
much, but he’ll be meet with you, I doubt it not.
...are all mortal.
You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is
a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and
her. They never meet but there’s a skirmish of wit
between them.
...Do, good friend.
You will never run mad, niece.
...you encounter it.
Never came trouble to my house in the
likeness of your Grace, for trouble being gone,
comfort should remain, but when you depart from
me, sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave.
...is your daughter.
Her mother hath many times told me so.
...you asked her?
Signior Benedick, no, for then were you a
child.
...an honorable father.
Leonato and the Prince move aside.
...you of old.
Leonato and the Prince come forward.
...from his heart.
If you swear, my lord, you shall not be
forsworn. To Don John.
Let me bid you welcome,
my lord, being reconciled to the Prince your brother,
I owe you all duty.
...I thank you.
Please it your Grace lead on?
...will go together.
All exit except Benedick and Claudio.
Scene 2
...put it presently.
Enter Leonato, meeting an old man, brother to Leonato.
How now, brother, where is my cousin, your
son? Hath he provided this music?
...dreamt not of.
Are they good?
...you of it.
Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?
...question him yourself.
No, no, we will hold it as a dream till it
appear itself. But I will acquaint my daughter
withal, that she may be the better prepared for an
answer, if peradventure this be true. Go you and tell
her of it.
Enter Antonio’s son, with a Musician and Attendants.
Cousins, you know what you have to do.—O, I cry
you mercy, friend. Go you with me and I will use
your skill.—Good cousin, have a care this busy
time.
They exit.
ACT 2
Scene 1
...upon your Lordship.
Enter Leonato, his brother, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his niece, with Ursula and Margaret.
Was not Count John here at supper?
...son, evermore tattling.
Then half Signior Benedick’s tongue in
Count John’s mouth, and half Count John’s melancholy
in Signior Benedick’s face—
...get her goodwill.
By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a
husband if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.
...he sends none.
So, by being too curst, God will send you no
horns.
...in the woolen!
You may light on a husband that hath no
beard.
...apes into hell.
Well then, go you into hell?
...it please me.”
Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted
with a husband.
...in my kindred.
to Hero
Daughter, remember what I told
you. If the Prince do solicit you in that kind, you
know your answer.
...into his grave.
Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.
...church by daylight.
The revelers are entering, brother. Make
good room.
Leonato and his brother step aside.
...the next turning.
Then exit all except Don John, Borachio, and Claudio.
...as I may.
Enter the Prince, Hero, and Leonato.
...give thee joy.
Count, take of me my daughter, and with her
my fortunes. His Grace hath made the match, and
all grace say “Amen” to it.
...give you joy!
Niece, will you look to those things I told
you of?
...a pleasant-spirited lady.
There’s little of the melancholy element in
her, my lord. She is never sad but when she sleeps,
and not ever sad then, for I have heard my daughter
say she hath often dreamt of unhappiness and
waked herself with laughing.
...of a husband.
O, by no means. She mocks all her wooers
out of suit.
...wife for Benedick.
O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week
married, they would talk themselves mad.
...all his rites.
Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence
a just sevennight, and a time too brief, too, to have
all things answer my mind.
...give you direction.
My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten
nights’ watchings.
...you my drift.
They exit.
Scene 3
...arbor. He hides.
Enter Prince, Leonato, Claudio, and Balthasar with music.
...loved any man.
No, nor I neither, but most wonderful that
she should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she
hath in all outward behaviors seemed ever to
abhor.
...in that corner?
By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to
think of it, but that she loves him with an enraged
affection, it is past the infinite of thought.
...Faith, like enough.
O God! Counterfeit? There was never counterfeit
of passion came so near the life of passion as
she discovers it.
...fish will bite.
What effects, my lord? She will sit you—you
heard my daughter tell you how.
...assaults of affection.
I would have sworn it had, my lord, especially
against Benedick.
...known to Benedick?
No, and swears she never will. That’s her
torment.
...I love him?”
This says she now when she is beginning to
write to him, for she’ll be up twenty times a night,
and there will she sit in her smock till she have writ
a sheet of paper. My daughter tells us all.
...told us of.
O, when she had writ it and was reading it
over, she found “Benedick” and “Beatrice” between
the sheet?
... That.
O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence,
railed at herself that she should be so
immodest to write to one that she knew would flout
her. “I measure him,” says she, “by my own spirit,
for I should flout him if he writ to me, yea, though I
love him, I should.”
...give me patience!”
She doth indeed, my daughter says so, and
the ecstasy hath so much overborne her that my
daughter is sometimes afeared she will do a desperate
outrage to herself. It is very true.
...in loving Benedick.
O, my lord, wisdom and blood combating in
so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one that
blood hath the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have
just cause, being her uncle and her guardian.
...he will say.
Were it good, think you?
...most Christianlike fear.
If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep
peace. If he break the peace, he ought to enter into
a quarrel with fear and trembling.
...with good counsel.
Nay, that’s impossible; she may wear her
heart out first.
...good a lady.
My lord, will you walk? Dinner is ready.
Leonato, Prince, and Claudio begin to exit.
...in to dinner.
Prince, Leonato, and Claudio exit.
ACT 3
Scene 2
...better than reportingly.
Enter Prince, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato.
...I have been.
So say I. Methinks you are sadder.
...for the toothache?
Where is but a humor or a worm.
...stuffed tennis balls.
Indeed he looks younger than he did, by the
loss of a beard.
...must not hear.
Benedick and Leonato exit.
Scene 5
...Meg, good Ursula.
Enter Leonato, and Dogberry, the Constable, and Verges, the Headborough.
What would you with me, honest neighbor?
...decerns you nearly.
Brief, I pray you, for you see it is a busy time
with me.
...it is, sir.
What is it, my good friends?
...Palabras, neighbor Verges.
Neighbors, you are tedious.
...of your Worship.
All thy tediousness on me, ah?
...so am I.
I would fain know what you have to say.
...alas, good neighbor.
Indeed, neighbor, he comes too short of you.
...that God gives.
I must leave you.
...before your Worship.
Take their examination yourself and bring it
me. I am now in great haste, as it may appear unto
you.
...shall be suffigance.
Drink some wine ere you go. Fare you well.
...to her husband.
I’ll wait upon them. I am ready.
He exits, with the Messenger.
ACT 4
Scene 1
...at the jail.
Enter Prince, John the Bastard, Leonato, Friar, Claudio, Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice, with Attendants.
Come, Friar Francis, be brief, only to the
plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their
particular duties afterwards.
...this lady? No.
To be married to her.—Friar, you come to
marry her.
...you any, count?
I dare make his answer, none.
...maid, your daughter?
As freely, son, as God did give her me.
...guiltiness, not modesty.
What do you mean, my lord?
...an approvèd wanton.
Dear my lord, if you in your own proof
Have vanquished the resistance of her youth,
And made defeat of her virginity—
...speak so wide?
Sweet prince, why speak not you?
...a common stale.
Are these things spoken, or do I but dream?
...eyes our own?
All this is so, but what of this, my lord?
...her answer truly.
I charge thee do so, as thou art my child.
...more be gracious.
Hath no man’s dagger here a point for me?
...Signior Benedick! Friar!
O Fate, take not away thy heavy hand!
Death is the fairest cover for her shame
That may be wished for.
...Have comfort, lady.
to Hero
Dost thou look up?
...should she not?
Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly thing
Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny
The story that is printed in her blood?—
Do not live, Hero, do not ope thine eyes,
For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die,
Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames,
Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches,
Strike at thy life. Grieved I I had but one?
Chid I for that at frugal Nature’s frame?
O, one too much by thee! Why had I one?
Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes?
Why had I not with charitable hand
Took up a beggar’s issue at my gates,
Who, smirchèd thus, and mired with infamy,
I might have said “No part of it is mine;
This shame derives itself from unknown loins”?
But mine, and mine I loved, and mine I praised,
And mine that I was proud on, mine so much
That I myself was to myself not mine,
Valuing of her—why she, O she, is fall’n
Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea
Hath drops too few to wash her clean again,
And salt too little which may season give
To her foul tainted flesh!
...been her bedfellow.
Confirmed, confirmed! O, that is stronger made
Which was before barred up with ribs of iron!
Would the two princes lie and Claudio lie,
Who loved her so that, speaking of her foulness,
Washed it with tears? Hence from her. Let her die!
...some biting error.
Friar, it cannot be.
Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left
Is that she will not add to her damnation
A sin of perjury. She not denies it.
Why seek’st thou then to cover with excuse
That which appears in proper nakedness?
...frame of villainies.
I know not. If they speak but truth of her,
These hands shall tear her. If they wrong her honor,
The proudest of them shall well hear of it.
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine,
Nor age so eat up my invention,
Nor fortune made such havoc of my means,
Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends,
But they shall find, awaked in such a kind,
Both strength of limb and policy of mind,
Ability in means and choice of friends,
To quit me of them throughly.
...unto a burial.
What shall become of this? What will this do?
...with your body.
Being that I flow in grief,
The smallest twine may lead me.
...and endure.
All but Beatrice and Benedick exit.
ACT 5
Scene 1
...down an ass!
Enter Leonato and his brother.
...grief Against yourself.
I pray thee, cease thy counsel,
Which falls into mine ears as profitless
As water in a sieve. Give not me counsel,
Nor let no comforter delight mine ear
But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine.
Bring me a father that so loved his child,
Whose joy of her is overwhelmed like mine,
And bid him speak of patience.
Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine,
And let it answer every strain for strain,
As thus for thus, and such a grief for such,
In every lineament, branch, shape, and form.
If such a one will smile and stroke his beard,
Bid sorrow wag, cry “hem” when he should groan,
Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk
With candle-wasters, bring him yet to me,
And I of him will gather patience.
But there is no such man. For, brother, men
Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief
Which they themselves not feel, but tasting it,
Their counsel turns to passion, which before
Would give preceptial med’cine to rage,
Fetter strong madness in a silken thread,
Charm ache with air and agony with words.
No, no, ’tis all men’s office to speak patience
To those that wring under the load of sorrow,
But no man’s virtue nor sufficiency
To be so moral when he shall endure
The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel.
My griefs cry louder than advertisement.
...children nothing differ.
I pray thee, peace. I will be flesh and blood,
For there was never yet philosopher
That could endure the toothache patiently,
However they have writ the style of gods
And made a push at chance and sufferance.
...you suffer too.
There thou speak’st reason. Nay, I will do so.
My soul doth tell me Hero is belied,
And that shall Claudio know; so shall the Prince
And all of them that thus dishonor her.
...both of you.
Hear you, my lords—
...haste, Leonato.
Some haste, my lord! Well, fare you well, my lord.
Are you so hasty now? Well, all is one.
...Who wrongs him?
Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou.
Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword.
I fear thee not.
...to my sword.
Tush, tush, man, never fleer and jest at me.
I speak not like a dotard nor a fool,
As under privilege of age to brag
What I have done being young, or what would do
Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head,
Thou hast so wronged mine innocent child and me
That I am forced to lay my reverence by,
And with gray hairs and bruise of many days
Do challenge thee to trial of a man.
I say thou hast belied mine innocent child.
Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart,
And she lies buried with her ancestors,
O, in a tomb where never scandal slept,
Save this of hers, framed by thy villainy.
... My villainy?
Thine, Claudio, thine, I say.
...right, old man.
My lord, my lord,
I’ll prove it on his body if he dare,
Despite his nice fence and his active practice,
His May of youth and bloom of lustihood.
...do with you.
Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast killed my child.
If thou kill’st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.
...gentleman, I will.
Brother—
...braggarts, jacks, milksops!
Brother Anthony—
...this is all.
But brother Anthony—
...full of proof.
My lord, my lord—
...not hear you.
No? Come, brother, away. I will be heard.
...smart for it.
Leonato and his brother exit.
...the Sexton too.
Enter Leonato, his brother, and the Sexton.
Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes,
That, when I note another man like him,
I may avoid him. Which of these is he?
...look on me.
Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast killed
Mine innocent child?
...even I alone.
No, not so, villain, thou beliest thyself.
Here stand a pair of honorable men—
A third is fled—that had a hand in it.—
I thank you, princes, for my daughter’s death.
Record it with your high and worthy deeds.
’Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.
...enjoin me to.
I cannot bid you bid my daughter live—
That were impossible—but, I pray you both,
Possess the people in Messina here
How innocent she died. And if your love
Can labor aught in sad invention,
Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb
And sing it to her bones. Sing it tonight.
Tomorrow morning come you to my house,
And since you could not be my son-in-law,
Be yet my nephew. My brother hath a daughter,
Almost the copy of my child that’s dead,
And she alone is heir to both of us.
Give her the right you should have giv’n her cousin,
And so dies my revenge.
...of poor Claudio.
Tomorrow then I will expect your coming.
Tonight I take my leave. This naughty man
Shall face to face be brought to Margaret,
Who I believe was packed in all this wrong,
Hired to it by your brother.
...upon that point.
I thank thee for thy care and honest pains.
...God for you.
giving him money
There’s for thy pains.
...save the foundation.
Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I
thank thee.
...it.— Come, neighbor.
Until tomorrow morning, lords, farewell.
...mourn with Hero.
to Watch
Bring you these fellows on.—We’ll talk with Margaret,
How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.
They exit.
Scene 4
...up this woe.
Enter Leonato, Benedick, Beatrice, Margaret, Ursula, Leonato’s brother, Friar, Hero.
...she was innocent?
So are the Prince and Claudio, who accused her
Upon the error that you heard debated.
But Margaret was in some fault for this,
Although against her will, as it appears
In the true course of all the question.
...reckoning for it.
Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all,
Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves,
And when I send for you, come hither masked.
The Prince and Claudio promised by this hour
To visit me.—You know your office, brother.
You must be father to your brother’s daughter,
And give her to young Claudio.
...eye of favor.
That eye my daughter lent her; ’tis most true.
...love requite her.
The sight whereof I think you had from me,
From Claudio, and the Prince. But what’s your will?
...desire your help.
My heart is with your liking.
...this fair assembly.
Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio.
We here attend you. Are you yet determined
Today to marry with my brother’s daughter?
...she an Ethiope.
Call her forth, brother. Here’s the Friar ready.
...must seize upon?
This same is she, and I do give you her.
...see your face.
No, that you shall not till you take her hand
Before this friar and swear to marry her.
...that is dead!
She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived.
...in friendly recompense.
Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.
...our wives’ heels.
We’ll have dancing afterward.
...plays. They dance.
They exit.